It Happened So Fast, The Aftermath
by Shirley Jean
Summary: ...Jim found his way to the garbage can and once again began to retch. He had done it several times that evening; away from his partner, and his superiors. He didn't want anyone to see him... ***This is a WHN to "It Happened So Fast" Episode from Season 1. It takes place after the IA interrogations, and Jim Reed has time to let everything sink in. My first Adam-12 fanfic...


It was cold.

Everything felt so cold. Sure, a morgue is meant to be cold. But it just wasn't the temperature of the stark room.

It was the fluorescent lighting, the steel, and yes, the sickly green tile that was lending itself to the coldness that sent a chill through his body.

His body was still shaking as he stood there, staring at the table.

A sheet loosely covered the cold, lifeless body of the boy. His age defined him as a boy, but the body was the size of that of a man.

John Michael Harris. He was never going to forget that name. Not ever.

He shot at their patrol car as Jim and his partner drove through the neighborhood. Jim had returned fire, shooting the boy, killing him. It was only afterward that Jim Reed found out that the shooter was merely sixteen. The kid should have been at a football game, or at a hamburger place with a giggly girlfriend, sipping malts, not taking potshots at police officers with a rifle. He felt himself getting sick again.

"John Michael Harris. John. Probably was called Johnny or something…" Jim repeated under his breath as he thought about how the young man laid out before him was alive several hours ago. He let his gaze wander around the room, and then once again stay fixed on the lifeless form on the steel table. His body still shook at the events that happened earlier that night.

Jim hadn't meant to come down there. Not really. Now he couldn't tear himself away and get back to his partner. He was tired, so tired; confused, worried, sick…so many things. And he felt hollow inside. Jim found his way to the garbage can and once again began to retch. He had done it several times that evening; away from his partner and his superiors. He didn't want anyone to see him. They had now become dry heaves, twisting his gut and churning up the rancid bile, burning its way up into his throat.

Maybe if he had just done things differently…had waited for a moment before shooting, or aimed a little lower and shot the boy in the leg, or shot over his head to scare him…Shot at the ground, maybe if he could have talked to him… or maybe, just maybe… John Michael Harris would still be alive.

Jim Reed was so absorbed in his anguish that he didn't even notice he was no longer alone. He startled from his gaze at the body when someone suddenly touched his arm.

"Hey." Jim feebly greeted his partner.

"Hey yourself." Pete Malloy returned with a gentle smile, his hand still resting on Jim's arm. It felt reassuring, comforting. It was what Jim needed at that moment.

"I was looking for you." Pete eyed his friend with concern.

"Looking for me, why?" Oh…Is there more questioning from IA?…Mac have more questions too?" Jim's sad eyes found his partner's.

"No, _I_ was looking for you. Wanted to make sure you were all right. Kinda figured you'd be here." Pete eyed his partner with suspicious eyes. He had been in his shoes. He knew.

"I'm not the one on that table." Jim returned his gaze to the boy. Pete needed to get his friend out of there. Pete's eyes bore into Jim's.

"How about we go somewhere warmer?" Jim nodded, too tired to argue. "When's the last time you had something to eat?" Pete already knew the answer. Jim shrugged his shoulders. Eating was the last thing Jim wanted.

"I need some coffee." Jim mumbled. Pete shook his head. Caffeine was the last thing his partner needed.

"Jim, listen to me. You need something solid in your stomach. You're going to crash, and crash hard. I know you've been throwing up. I know because I did. More than once. Fighting sleep isn't the answer, either. You won't help anyone wearing yourself out. Come'on. I know a quiet place. Food's so-so, but the beer's cold." Pete smirked at his partner. Jim knew it was pointless to protest. He was exhausted. Pete knew he needed to talk it out. Deep down, Jim knew it too.

A12*A12*A12*A12*A12

"Jim…Jim!" Jim Reed stared blankly into the diminishing foam of his beer. Pete jolted him back into reality.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Jim looked up into his partners worried azure eyes.

"Your burger's getting cold. You need something on your stomach." Jim picked up the sandwich and took a miniscule bite. Pete shook his head. It was a baby step.

"He was so young. He had his whole life ahead of him, and I killed him." Jim took a long draw of his beer, and slammed the glass on the table. Pete took a long drink of his own, and settled back into the booth before he spoke.

"Jim, listen to me. That kid may have been only sixteen, but he made an adult choice when he decided to open fire on us. You made the only decision you could. Hell, it would have been the same decision I would have made." Jim thought about what his partner told him.

"But maybe…if I could have talked to him, or fired over him, or shot him in the leg… something besides…he could have turned his life around, or maybe he would have…" Jim was still wrestling with himself. Pete interrupted Jim's reasoning.

"Or maybe he would have gotten another shot off and I would be visiting your widow right now. You have to stop doing this to yourself, Jim. That kid made his choices long before we drove down that street. You're the one that didn't have a choice. You're a good cop. I should know. I taught you everything I know." The famous Malloy smirk emerged. Jim smiled a little himself. Pete planted his hand on Jim's arm until Jim met his gaze. Jim gave a little nod.

"I guess you're right." Pete smirked again and picked up his burger.

"I usually am! Eat up, partner, and I'll take you home." Pete took some big bites of his meal. He pointed at Jim's plate. "You're supposed to be eating too…" Jim reluctantly picked up his burger and took an actual bite, suddenly feeling a bit hungry. The guys finished, or at least Pete did. His partner managed a few bites. Jim stood and wavered a bit, mostly from being exhausted. Pete steadied his friend.

"Come on, partner. I'll drive you home. We can get your car from the station tomorrow." Pete escorted his best friend to his car. The drive to the Reed's home was mostly silent, with Jim peering out the passenger window deep in thought most of the way. Pete let him be for the most part.

"You sure you're ok?" Pete asked. Jim nodded, even though the darkness hid his response.

"Pete, I ah, just want to, ah, say, you know…" Jim stammered with his words.

"It's no problem Jim. You'd do the same for me. You know you can call me anytime, right?" Pete made eye contact with his teary-eyed friend. Jim nodded, as the words were caught in his throat. Pete patted his friend on the shoulder. Jim opened the car door, and walked up into the house. He turned and gave a quick wave, closing the door behind him.

Pete started the engine, and pulled away from the curb, drawing in a breath.

Jim Reed was going to be all right.


End file.
